Keep the Cup From Tipping
by C. C. Snow
Summary: All was well after Zelena was defeated. Emma and Killian married and decided to stay in New York with Henry, while the rest of Storybrooke retreated to The Enchanted Forest for good. Fourteen years into the marriage, Killian's odd obsession suddenly reveals itself, and Emma has to keep her family from falling apart. (Captain Swan AU based on Next To Normal)
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N. (I don't own most of the characters and certain parts of the plot. Courtesy goes to the creative teams behind Once Upon a Time and Next To Normal.) My first OUAT short-fic! I hope you enjoy it!_**

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**Keep the Cup From Tipping**

**Chapter 1**

It was forty minutes past two in the morning. Killian sat frozen at the dining table, waiting for his cup of earl grey tea to cool a little bit so that it wouldn't burn his tongue. He breathed quietly and slowly so that he could hear the slightest of noise from the suburban neighborhood that they reside in.

It didn't take long before the knob of the front door started clanking, and Killian's eyes brightened up. Henry, with his hair disheveled and his teal shirt and jeans soaked, appeared into the dining area and slammed a hand to his forehead at the sight of her stepfather.

"Dad, I told you not to wait for me on Wednesday nights," said Henry, sitting from across the table.

Killian leaned in and stared at his stepson, who looked spectacular in his eyes – the same innocence that he always saw in Neal's. "Technically, it's already Thursday morning. Care telling me why your clothes are wet?" He inquired with a caring tone and a soft smile.

A shy smirk pulled out of Henry's face as he looked down in embarrassment. "It was a swimming party, and I didn't have clothes for the 'swimming' part, so I hopped into the pool with this outfit."

"Swimming party? Really?" He mocked. "You're twenty-seven and you still go to swimming parties?"

Henry rolled his eyes.

"Don't you roll your eyes on me, mate. Try something cool for once, will ya?"

He laughed. "You're the coolest dad ever."

"I know." Killian sat straight as he crossed his arms in pride. "I'm also the most concerned dad around. What did I tell you about your curfew?" There was authority in his new tone and slight annoyance in his eyes as he waited for an answer.

"Unbelievable," Henry muttered under his breath. "You're the one who said it, dad. I'm already twenty-seven. I practically have immunity over curfew hours and parental restraints. I haven't been a teenager for the last seven years," he joked.

Killian narrowed his eyes as he glared at him. "What if you get hit by a truck on your way home, or a syndicate of criminals kidnap you and sell you at the Black Market, or if your blood sugar drops critically low and you faint in the middle of nowhere?"

"Dad, you got to stop watching the news. They're obviously getting into your head," Henry jeered and grinned at him.

That lovely smile warmed Killian's heart, like all the other times that he looked at him with such life in his face.

"Go upstairs quietly and sleep before your brother's cat wakes up your mom and you get caught," said Killian. Henry got up and pushed his chair back before disappearing into the staircase.

Killian took a deep breath and stared at the cup of earl grey in front of him. He never liked tea, but it was the only beverage that magically toned down his lust for rum all these years. Sighing, he nursed the tea as he held the cup near his face, hoping that its aroma would fool him again into liking its taste.

Several minutes later, he heard a door creak open and shut, and footsteps that grew louder with each sound. Emma, who was wearing Killian's Yankees shirt that extended to her thighs, walked to where he sat.

"Why are you already up?" Emma rubbed the sleep off her eyes. "Or did you even sleep at all?"

"I did sleep… for about an hour." Killian took a sip from his tea. "I just feel like having a nice cup of tea, that's all," he lied.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Since when was a cup of tea nice to you?" She chuckled, but then an evasive thought caused her to frown all of a sudden. "Or is the rum calling you again?"

For almost a year already, Killian had been taking tea more often. Every time Emma asked him about it, he'd complain about the rum nagging at the back of his head. This moment, however, wasn't one of those times of impending relapse.

"Aye," he lied again.

Emma moved over to him and sat on his lap. He wrapped his arms around his wife and secured her head rested on his shoulder.

"Come back to bed," she whispered to him. Before Killian could reply, she held his face and placed her lips onto his. She was kissing him too eagerly, and her hands were at the hem of his shirt a little too soon.

Killian moaned into the kiss, before reluctantly pulling off. "Looks like someone's in grave need of-,"

"-of you," Emma cut him off, with a devious smirk on her face. She moved to place light pecks on his ear. "I need you," whispered Emma, "I need you inside me."

He wasn't able to respond in a jiffy because her kisses on his ear made his fantasies go frenzy.

"So what do you say, Captain?" Emma snapped upon figuring that he was enjoying the kisses too much.

Killian gulped nervously. "I'll… I'll b-be upstairs after this t-tea's done," he stuttered.

Emma gave him a look of complete disbelief. She stood up and grabbed the cup from the table before disposing its contents in the sink. "The tea is done." A wily smirk broke from the curves of her lips before heading back to the room.

Killian took a deep breath before getting up from his seat to follow Emma. When he turned off the single lamp in the area, a curious slash of bedroom light at the foot of the guestroom door caught his sight. Before he could reach for the knob, the door opened from the inside, revealing a bright-eyed Hector with his pile of books cradled by one arm, and a bottle of Red Bull in his other hand.

"Dad!" The dark-haired boy exclaimed with a queer amount of energy.

"Hec? It's three in the morning. Why are you already up?" Killian gazed pityingly at his son. "Or did you even sleep at all?"

"I got four big tests for today, three music sheets to perfect before two in the afternoon, two essays to submit, and a cat to feed. I mean, everything's great, dad." He said with a stain of worry in his voice.

"What do those professors think of thirteen year old children? Bloody robots?" Killian hissed. "Anyway, you _havta_ slow down, boy." He playfully gave him a light punch to the shoulders. "I'm going to have sex with your mother," he blurted out before walking away.

"What the f-," Hector said under his breath. "Thanks, dad. I'm very much pleased to hear that," he shot back at him with a sickened face.

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**_A/N. Leave reviews and I'll love you forever!_**


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N. (I don't own most of the characters and certain parts of the plot. Courtesy goes to the creative teams behind Once Upon a Time and Next To Normal.) Thanks for following, guys!**_

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**Chapter 2**

On Friday morning, Hector's alarm didn't go off because the clock's battery gave up. He woke up to the sound of his mother yelling his name and knocking angrily at his door. He lingered in the comfort of his bed for a while – staring tirelessly at the ceiling as the thought of having to get through for just another day of being Hector Jones bored his spirits.

Emma yelled his name again from afar. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth – trying to calm his breathing. _That's just the angry pile of case files waiting at her desk, speaking,_ Hector thought to make himself feel better.

Nine years ago, her mother had started a job at the nearest station as an apprentice to Detective Sherrie Bowers. Because of Emma's natural talents, the duo had been one of the most demanded teams when it came to crime scenes all over the state. Sometimes, they accepted cases from the other coast as well. Because of this, Emma was rarely home, and Hector was used to seeing her only at breakfast.

He got up to his feet and had himself a quick shower before grabbing his satchel and scurrying to the kitchen, where Killian was preparing sandwiches.

His father was content with staying at home ever since. The new culture and community had been nice to him, but he always had trouble dealing with modern people. Killian only loved going out when he was headed for the little bookstore that was four blocks away from their home. In the morning, he would busy himself over self-help books, later gaining a particular interest in modern carpentry and in foreign cuisines.

Killian always wanted to be the one making the meals, and he was pretty good at it – considering that he only had one hand.

Emma grabbed her sandwich from the counter. "Hector, I'll make no second thoughts about leaving without you if this is the pace you're going with," she told her son before hurrying to the garage.

Hector greeted his father, who was washing utensils.

"Dad, my recital's in two weeks. I don't think mom already knows, so I guess maybe, you could be the one to tell her?"

Killian turned to his direction. "Aye. I'll mark it on the calendar on the refrigerator."

"I don't think you should be trusting it, Dad. That calendar is four months late," Hector chuckled before snatching his share of packed snack and following to the car.

Killian finished his dishes not too long after Emma's car left. He dried the chopping board and the bowls with a cloth before placing them back in the cabinets. He was about to leave the kitchen, when the unused loaves of bread and mayonnaise at the dining table met his sight. Scrunching his nose, Killian turned back and retrieved the chopping board and the other utensils that he just cleaned. He collected his ingredients and sat at the dining table, ready to make some _more_ sandwiches.

"How hungry are you to be making this much?" Henry greeted as he approached the table.

"Well, I didn't know how much you'd like for today," replied Killian as he evened his homemade spread onto the bread.

"Certainly not eight sandwiches in one morning," jeered Henry as he gazed at the finished ones.

Killian didn't say a word back and continued making sandwiches.

"Dad," Henry called as he watched him.

"Tomorrow's a special day. I just think you'd like sandwiches for your birthday tomorrow."

"You can't just let me go, huh?" He smiled shyly to himself. "Dad?"

Killian was applying a lot of spread on one loaf – too much in proportion that the spread would rudely escape the sides of the bread despite its viscosity.

"Dad!" Henry's loud voice echoed in his head, making him take notice of the temporary insanity that he was doing for the past five minutes. Killian stared at the blunt knife that was in his grip, and the poor sandwich that was drowning in his tuna spread. When he had successfully composed himself, he noticed that Henry had already exited the house, and he was again, alone – like any other morning in his New York life.

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The next day, Emma coaxed Killian into visiting a therapist. Killian tried to think of excuses not to go, but like the rest of the times that he did, Emma always found the right words to block him.

Emma was combing her hair from across the room. "Come on, Killian. Something's up and you couldn't tell me, so you need to see a therapist."

"Something's up? What'ya mean something's up? I feel fine. I'm ecstatic."

"You're hyped, not ecstatic," Emma corrected. "And besides, you told me that the rum has been calling to you more often. We need to make sure you won't ever fall into relapse."

"Bloody therapists… never fancied 'em," Killian huffed. He walked over to her. "Remember the first one we went to, four months into our marriage? The one with the lovely face?"

"You mean the one that you said kind of looked like Milah?" She said with a taint of jealousy in her tone. Emma saw him roll his eyes through the mirror, causing a short blush and a grin to break out of her face. "You roll your eyes now. How adorable," she jeered.

Killian shook his head in embarrassment. "Anyway… She tried to use hypnotism on me so I could explore my mind, but she started to freak out when I was telling her about Neverland and my brother and Pan, and Tink and-,"

"I know," she cut him off. "I totally overlooked the fact that you're not originally from this reality. Face it, honey. You want this too at some point, otherwise you wouldn't be dressing up right now."

He glanced at the plaid shirt and jeans that he sported and sighed. "It will disappoint you if I won't go. It's not like I have another choice."

She threw her arms around his neck and sealed her lips with his in a short yet gentle kiss. "You'll be fine today. And you will like this new therapist. He understands other realities so you can confide in him without worry."

"Yeah? What's his name?"

"Doctor John Darling."

Upon hearing the doctor's name, Killian's eyes brightened up and he needed no more coaxing or pushing. He went to the car and sat gleefully in the passenger's seat while Emma grabbed her purse and proceeded to drive.

"So how d'ya come across this Darling kid?" He inquired as she drove.

"Finding people is what I do best, you know that. He studied Psychiatry right after Wendy's return from Neverland and opened a clinic downtown when he got his degree. I called yesterday to fix you a session with him, and he couldn't be gladder to take you in."

"You're wonderful," he said, glancing at her.

"I know." Emma's lips curved into a smug smirk.

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**_A/N. Tell me what you think so far! =)_**


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N. (I don't own most of the characters and certain parts of the plot. Courtesy goes to the creative teams behind Pitch Perfect and Next To Normal.)**_

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**Chapter 3**

At Doctor John Darling's clinic, Killian sat in silence while Emma arranged what needed to be arranged. It didn't take long before his assistant called out "Killian Jones," signaling the start of his session. Emma kissed him goodbye before he entered.

"Sit down," John asked politely, the gleam in his wide eyes shining through his big eyeglasses.

He did as he was told and took a deep breath as he watched the young doctor scan through his patient folder. John took a seat on the couch that was across the room, so that he was at a therapeutic distance with his client.

"Captain Hook," he began. "What a pleasure to finally meet you! Wendy has told me a bunch of stories about you."

Killian smiled at him and nodded. "Good ones, I presume?"

He chuckled. "And the ones that aren't that good, but none of it shall hold much bearing in today's session," he assured him. "We're going to begin with hypnotism as a way of assessment, and then we'll see how we can work out with what we find."

"Hate to disappoint ya, Doc, but the previous hypnotism was a little disastrous."

"That's because your first therapist knows Neverland as fiction. I don't."

He leaned back into the La-Z-Boy that he was settled in. John placed his file on his desk, and pulled a wooden chair to sit closer to his client.

"Now, Killian I need you to relax. For this activity to be effective, you should be in your most comfortable state, and my voice shall be your guide. Now, close your eyes and breathe deep and slow."

Killian rested his upper limbs on the arm rests and did as he was told. John's deep voice was calming, and his clear utterance of every word that came out of his mouth made it all more penetrating… and more relaxing.

"Breathe, and let your pulse beat its most silent. At this moment, Killian, I want you to think of nothing else, and just concentrate on my voice… Only my voice."

The subtly-decorated office of John Darling disappeared when he closed his eyes, and now the leathery feel of the La-Z-Boy under his skin also began to move out of focus. Slowly, Killian felt himself drifting away into a dark dimension, with nothing but John's voice as his company.

"You will continue doing what I tell you to do. You will continue to follow my voice. Concentrate on my voice." John leaned in and anchored his elbows on top of his knees, his fingers fondling one another as he sighed.

"What is your name?" John spoke.

"Hook. Captain Hook."

"Is that your real name?"

"N-no."

"Then what is?"

"My name is Killian Jones."

"Good," the doctor reinforced. "Where do you live?"

"Just around the corner… still in New York."

"Before New York, where did you live?"

"S-Storyb-b-brooke," Killian stuttered.

"You seem unsure, Killian. Do you remember how that place looked like?"

"Yes," he replied in an almost whisper.

"Tell me about your last days in Storybrooke."

There was a short silence, but he began eventually. "The celebration had toned down after Zelena was defeated, and everyone was back in their own little problems. Emma was still talking to her parents about leaving Storybrooke and staying in New York with Henry and me."

"Who is Emma?"

"Emma Swan, the woman who reminded me of what it feels to be in love like a young boy."

"Where is Emma Swan now?"

"She's also here in New York, and her name is already Emma Jones. She's my wife."

John saw that his words were matching the ones on his patient history, and proceeded with his assessment.

"And Henry?"

"He is Emma's first born, but I'm not the biological father."

"Who is?"

"Baelfire. She knew him as Neal Cassidy, but I knew him as Baelfire."

"Okay, now continue with what happened on your last days in Storybrooke."

"Regina warned them about the instability of the new curse that Snow and David cast, and recommended that they return to The Enchanted Forest as soon as possible. There were more arguments because Emma didn't want to go with the rest. As much as it hurt her, Regina had to let her son out of the dangers of The Enchanted Forest. When she gave her permission to Emma, Snow and David did as well."

"How were you involved in that issue?"

"I listened to the arguments that I was allowed to, and I comforted Emma when she cried at night. Henry came to me at one point, begging me to convince her mother not to proceed with her New York plans."

"Then, what happened, Killian? Did you succeed?"

"No. I tried only once, and it caused Emma to avoid me for almost a day. I couldn't bear that kind of pain, so I thought to myself that I should just let it go. Henry got furious about it. When we settled here, I swore to the heavens that I would spend the rest of my life making it up to the boy."

"And how did you cope with Henry's resentment of you?"

Killian didn't reply immediately, causing John to throw a curious look at his client. If he could make him admit that he was maladaptive and an alcoholic, things would be a little easier for both of them.

"I stay up late at night and watch anything on the television."

"What other mechanisms did you utilize?"

"Well, I've always been fascinated with rum."

_Bingo,_ thought John in his head. He looked at his client, who still has his eyes closed, and smiled at how things turned out to be not as bad as he expected.

"How much rum did you consume per day?"

"I _dunno_. T'was hard to keep count, but I can say that it was a lot."

"What did the rum provide you, Killian?"

"Solace. It's temporary, but it does the trick."

"What did you need the solace for?"

"I am trying so hard to be a good father to Henry. I am trying to be the hero that Neal was in his life. I'm trying every day, but I'm failing every day. The fear that I might not be good enough for him keeps me terrified, so I figured that the rum will be my temporary relief."

"How did Emma feel about your drinking?"

"She was upset about it. She told me that I was an addict, and for some time I hated her for that thing that she said. It took me a while before I realized it myself. When I did, I wanted to stop. If I stop, I'll be making Emma happy… I'll be making Henry happy."

"And what did you do about that plan?"

"I came across this tea from the grocery store, one day, and I decided to try one bag. It was a challenge to finish that one cup, and when I did, looking at the bottles of rum in the kitchen bothered less and less. The tea worked a certain magic, so I used it as my rum-substitute."

"How did it go from that point?"

"It worked for many years, Doc. Through all the events that passed, it kept the rum away."

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_**A/N. Reviews, reviews, reviews! Thank you!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N. (I don't own most of the characters and certain parts of the plot. Courtesy goes to the creative teams behind Once Upon a Time and Next To Normal.) We're down to the last chapter. Thank you so much for the reviews! Keep them coming! Let me know what you think. =)_**

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**Chapter 4**

_[Later that day…]_

Emma entered their home and went to the kitchen at the inviting scent of Killian's cooking. She saw the dining area all set up with placemats and plates, and shook her head. "You're always enthusiastic about preparing food, huh?"

Killian turned to glance at his wife, before re-focusing himself on the stove. "I fancy kitchen duties."

She grinned.

"That's a gorgeous dress, by the way," he added.

"Yeah. I made a quick run to the station earlier because Sherrie needed some papers." Emma sat on a counter. "Where's Hector?"

"Uh, he's with his new friend seeing a mini concert at the nearby park. I told him to be back for dinner." Killian looked at the wall clock. "Hec should be here in about fifteen minutes."

"Why are we having early dinner?"

He shrugged. "I just want everything to be prepared before _HE_ gets home, that's all."

Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, Emma got back to her feet and decided to go upstairs. "I'll be in the room."

Hector did arrive after fifteen minutes. Killian greeted him and his new friend, Bern and invited the girl for dinner. Despite Hector's euphemized refusal, Killian insisted that Bern stayed.

"I'll go upstairs and change into decent clothes," Killian grinned at them and scurried away.

Hector anxiously rubbed a hand on his nape.

"I think your father's pretty cool," Bern said.

He let out a nervous laugh. "Are you just saying that to make me feel less awkward about you being here?"

The girl giggled and nodded.

"Come on," Hector took her hand and led her to the dining area.

"The food smells awesome," Bern commented as she sat at the chair he pulled back for her. "Thanks."

He sat beside her at the table. "My dad has been busying himself with French cuisine lately."

"I'm _kinda_ jealous. Our weekend dinners are the usual American food."

"Believe me, Dad usually doesn't cook this much." Before Hector could say another word, Emma's footsteps neared them and she greeted them with a smile.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Jones," Bern replied, as they shook hands.

"Call me Emma. It's totally fine. Don't make me feel older than I already am." Emma turned to her son as she sat from across the table. "Where is your dad?"

"He said he'd be changing clothes," Hector said, confused.

"He did, actually. He changed up real fast in the room, and then went out in a jiffy," replied Emma.

"He's probably back in the kitchen and we just didn't notice," he assured his mother with a small smile.

"Killian? We're all here!" Emma called out. They heard a mumble from the kitchen. She faced Hector and Bern. "What did he say?" She whispered to them but they only shrugged.

Killian entered, walking slowly – afraid to smudge any surface of the wide, rectangular cake that he was holding. "It's someone's birthday!"

"Oh! Whose birthday is it?" Bern inquired, beaming.

There was a short silence before Hector replied with a flat tone. "My brother's."

"Oh," Bern smiled through tight lips. "I didn't know you have a brother."

"I… I don't," Hector spoke low.

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_[Nine years ago…]_

_Killian got up early on a Saturday morning to make some sandwiches. He made his own spread that he learned from a recipe book and made two packs of snacks. He heard a door open wildly and shut, causing a sweet smirk to pull out of his face as he returned the washed utensils in the cabinets. Killian rushed to grab the sandwiches and sprinted to the foot of the staircase to meet a dashing eighteen year old Henry._

_"I made you sandwiches, son," he greeted as he held the snacks out to him._

_"I don't need snacks." Henry anchored his backpack on a shoulder as he descended the stairs. "And I'm not your son," he followed up, ignoring his offer._

_"Where r'ya headed to?"_

_"I'm taking Hec to the park today. Wanna come?"_

_Killian couldn't help the warming of his cheeks upon hearing him say those words. "S-sure. I'd love to."_

_"That was rhetorical, Hook," Henry shot back with a sickened face. "Of course, I don't want you around."_

_Hector, dressed in a green sweatshirt and jeans, ran down with his eyes wide with excitement. "Henry! Bring your guitar!"_

_"Sure thing, little guy!" He beamed, giving his brother's jet black hair a light rub before going to the guestroom to retrieve the instrument._

_"Are those for me, Dad?" Young Hector snapped at Killian._

_He glanced at the sandwiches in his hands, then gazed at the wide grayish blue eyes that were looking up at him. It was the same palette of colors that had him captive by love. The boy got his mother's exact dark shades – even the minor orange ring that embraced her pupils._

_With both hands, Hector received the sandwiches from his father. "Share it with your brother, aye Hec?"_

_He nodded enthusiastically and leaned his head to his father's hip – causing Killian to wrap his arms around the boy. "Thanks, Dad. You're the best."_

_"Alright, Hec! It's time to go!" Henry called out as he shut the door and approached them. He handed Hector the car keys and let him be the one to start the engine._

_"Henry," Killian called just before his adopted son was about to go out of the house. "Let me drive you both to the park, at least. You haven't been used to driving on your own yet."_

_With his usual detesting eyes, Henry looked at him with disbelief. "I believe I can handle myself. Stop acting like my Dad, like my real Dad. You're nothing like him."_

_"Henry…"_

_"Do you really want to do this right now? Fine. My father wouldn't have let my mom leave her family, Hook! He would've kept his will to have Mom stay with her parents. So please, stop trying. You will never be him." __Henry walked out with his guitar and closed the main door shut._

_Killian sat on the couch in the living room as he thought about what Henry just said. His thoughts were as loud as the chattering noise in the city proper (which he had always resented), and they were worrying, comforting, and oppressing all at the same time. Killian didn't know to which voice in his head he should listen._

_Emma woke up a little bit later and asked about where the boys went. Killian nervously revealed about Henry driving to the park on his own, and Emma slammed a hand to her forehead in disbelief._

_"I told him that he isn't fully ready to drive," said Emma, shaking her head._

_"I tried to offer my supervision, but he-,"_

_"But he wouldn't accept it," she interrupted. "Of course. He still has a hold of a grudge, that brat. And it's okay, really." Emma smiled at her husband. "I'm going to take a shower and follow the boys to the park, make sure Henry won't drive themselves to their grave instead of back here."_

_Just like that, Killian was again left alone._

* * *

"Oh," Bern smiled through tight lips. "I didn't know you have a brother."

"I… I don't," Hector spoke low. "He died when I was four."

Emma stood and approached Killian unhurriedly.

"What?" Killian wondered, the careless smile on his face and his slightly ragged breathing reflecting how he has no clue of what was going on.

Emma frowned as she felt her eyes pooling with tears. The candles on the cake burned their brightest, and Emma looked at it with pure sympathy in her eyes. Gently, she took the cake from Killian's grip and placed it on the counter near them.

"What?" Killian asked again, now with his smile slowly disappearing as he noticed the growing gloom in his wife's eyes.

Emma turned to face his son. "Hector honey, please take Bern back to their house. I'll take care of this."

Hector sat frozen in his seat, his eyes fixed at the empty plate in front of him. Bern noticed the anxiety in his hands. "Walk me outside?" She whispered to him as she held his hand. He stood slowly with his head bent down – careful not to make sight of his father.

"Again, it was night to meet you both," Bern spoke softly over to Hector's parents before disappearing out of the dining area.

"What's happening? Where's Henry?" Killian asked again.

Emma held his shaking hand and warmed it with her own. "Do you feel that he's still real?"

Killian furrowed his brows. The house began to spin slightly and he felt beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"He's not here. And I know that you know." She clenched her jaw to hold her tears.

Killian looked into her eyes with a combination of confusion and worry in his face. "Where is Henry? Where's _my boy_?"

"He's been dead for nine years." Her voice shook, and a lone tear ran through her face. "You've got to let him go."

"That's not true," he argued. "He comes home late every Wednesday night. A-and he loves my sandwiches. He sometimes skips on work and returns home in the morning, saying _'Hi Dad, I'm home,'_ and I'd give him a tight embrace."

Emma looked down as the tears flowed out relentlessly. She sobbed silently and threw her arms around Killian – sealing him into a hug. "I miss him, too Killian. He's gone. You've got to let him go."

Killian stood frozen. "He called me _'Dad,'_ Emma. For the first time in years he's forgiven me for letting you leave Storybrooke."

Emma cried for him, but mostly, she cried for herself – for not being able to recognize how bad things already are. Henry was always cold to Killian for not convincing her to stay with Snow and David, and every day in New York, Killian would try his best to close the gap between them. Henry couldn't find it in his heart to forgive him, and Emma knew that.

"There was an accident, Killian." She pulled out of the embrace and looked at his clueless eyes. "Don't you remember what happened?"

Killian's fingers fidgeted the fabric of his jeans as he began to shake his head relentlessly. "I thought it was just a dream… a night terror."

Emma dug into memory lane and remembered her words on that very morning. _"I'm going to take a shower and follow the boys to the park, make sure Henry won't drive themselves to their grave instead of back here."_

But Henry did _drive_ himself to his grave, and Emma had the front row seat to witness it frame by frame.

"It was my fault, wasn't it?" Killian clenched his fists.

"Don't do this now, Killian. It had nothing to do with you."

"If I insisted on going with them to the park, or if I had stopped them,"

"No. Stop it," Emma ordered. "It wasn't his driving that got him killed. You know that! Why are you taking this on yourself?"

"I always thought… what would he have done if he were here? What would Baelfire-,"

"Killian, look at me." Emma cupped his troubled face and searched for his sky blue orbs. "Henry ran across the street to save his little brother from getting hit by a car, only to have his own life taken instead. There was nothing that you or even I could've done, Killian. I thought you knew that."

_Henry drove himself to his grave because he didn't want Hector to go to his._

Killian started crying and threw his arms around his wife. "I miss him, Emma. I miss _my_ boy."

Now that she realized how grave Killian had been falling, Emma planned to keep what's left of her family standing still. She shut her eyes and buried her face into Killian's shoulder. She looked forward to calling Doctor John Darling in the morning, and notify him of a bigger disaster.

It wasn't just about the rum, after all.

_**fin**_


End file.
